


The Show Must Go On!

by thousandyearwitch



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Developing Friendships, Dysfunctional Family, Eventual Hisoka/Illumi, Eventual Relationships, Family Drama, Fashion & Couture, Fashion Designer Illumi, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Fortnite References, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Makeup Artist Hisoka, Online Friendship, POV Alternating, Running Away, Youtuber AU, i promise the writing gets better in later chapters hhh, twitch au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:14:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24827380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thousandyearwitch/pseuds/thousandyearwitch
Summary: Hisoka Morrow, italian Makeup Youtuber, enjoys his life in the comfort and occasional drama of his profession. But nothing brings more drama and excitement into his life than the eldest son of the Zoldyck fashion magazine empire.Meanwhile, on the other side of the earth, twitch streamer Gon @foxbeargaming builds a steady long-distance friendship with speedrunning sensation "Kil", who seems every day more troubled by his home surroundings. If only there were a way to help him...
Relationships: Gon Freecs & Killua Zoldyck, Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck, Hisoka/Illumi Zoldyck
Comments: 19
Kudos: 181





	1. Gioco di amore

_Beep Beep. beep Beep. Click_

8:00 am. Hisoka rolled over in his queen-sized bed, groaning at the interruption of his beauty sleep. Setting an early alarm after editing until 2 am was a horrible idea.

He grabbed his phone from his nightstand and rolls onto his back, following his ritual of checking all his notifications in the morning. The video he had uploaded after editing was well received, many comments about how he should try more looks with purple eyeshadow.   
About 3 years ago he had started his channel “Bubblegumbitch Makeup” as more of a throwaway joke after someone insulted his makeup on Instagram. However, an audience grew quite quickly, and Hisoka had to admit that he enjoyed the attention and luxury of it all. Making money by sitting in front of a camera and applying Makeup while people tell you how good looking you are is a great ego boost.

Halfheartedly he scrolled through his subscription feed, just to see what his competition was up to, though barely anyone had really uploaded during the night. Amateurs and their 'healthy' sleep schedules. A true influencer knows that an audience never sleeps.

He disregarded his phone somewhere into the pile of pillows that make up his bed and made his way into the bathroom. His morning showers are more functional than enjoyable, quickly rinsing on whatever spirits of sleep may linger on him.

After that, the Makeup artist applied his usual morning creams, body lotion, towel dries his hair, and threw on a pair of grey low-waist sweats and a comfortable white razor-back shirt. _Need. Coffee._

Hisokas flat was a quaint little thing just outside of Rieti. An open imitation marble kitchen, facing the living room equipped with a black leather couch and wall mounted flat screen TV, opening to a relatively small balcony housing a few plants.

Exiting his bedroom, he grabbed the TV remote and switched unto a random morning news show, just needing background noise while he waits for his coffee to brew.

_"And preparations are running wild for the annual Fashion Week in Rome. This year the line-up features many new promising designers from all over the globe. Tune in at 10 for more-"_

The fashion week! Hisoka grinned, having nearly forgotten about this important event that he had always followed closely. Though rarely attending himself, he had been requested on multiple occasions as a make-up artist for certain models. But there was something more important connected to that special week. He grabbed his fresh cappuccino and strolled back to his room, fishing his phone from the depths of pillow mountain.

_"Hisoka: Gooooood Morning! Roma's Fashion Week is coming up, are you going to stop on by? ~"_

It didn’t take long before his phone chimed with the familiar _Ping_ of a private Message.

_“Bellissimo <3: I will be going to the Show for 4 days. If it proves convenient, I’d drop by for a short collaboration.” _

_“Hisoka: I’ll be keeping my bed warm~_ ♥️ _”_

_“Bellissimo <3: Gross and unnecessary. I will book a room in my usual hotel in Rome. I’ll drop by for the Collaboration on Monday afternoon, and leave after.” _

_“Bellissimo <3: I will send you some sample pieces later, please come up with a look for one of them, and don’t just ‘wing it’ like last time.”_

Hisoka giggled before disregarding his phone again. Illumi Zoldyck, breakthrough Fashion Designer from England, and eldest son of Zoldyck fashion magazine empire, who often uploaded videos of his artistic process on his channel “I. Zoldyck Fashion”. They had met 2 years ago, at a smaller Paris fashion show, the first one Hisoka ever attended. A model had requested Hisoka as her makeup artist, while Illumi had been working on a dress for her, and the two of them ended up working closely together to properly coordinate colours with each other. And though Illumi expressed great annoyance with Hisoka, they exchanged numbers, and started to make collab videos whenever they fell into the same place.   
Something about working together with Illumi got Hisokas heart racing. Seeing the camera-shy man get increasingly more frustrated with his antics was a joy that could hardly be topped.

But he didn’t have time to dwell in good memories and spine-tingling anticipation. He had work to do. And so once again he chucked his phone back into the pillow-cave system and made his way into his recording room.

It was a small office space, on one side an office Desk with a Desktop Computer, a couple of small succulent plants framing it, and a comfy black office chair. On the other side a set-up to record videos, with a white-pink gradient wall, a stainless white desk with a small mirror standing on it, and a less-comfy stool to sit on.   
In a smooth motion, Hisoka downed the rest of his coffee, set the cup aside, and started the camera. The night before he had laid out everything for his next video, a review for a new eyeshadow palette released by another Beauty Youtuber, still trying to get into the game. _How Cute._

Hisoka clapped his hands together, putting on his best camera smile. “Hey, Scum! ~ Today I have a very special treat for you all. I got my hands on the new Togari Palette ‘Hunting for Your Dreams’, his first release.” He held up the shimmering silver case and opened it up for the camera to reveal 6 eyeshadows in various shades of orange and red.   
About half an hour and a couple try hard glamour shots later, Hisoka dropped the Palette with a grin, staring directly into the Camera. In addition to his signature Star and Teardrop under his eyes, he had _attempted_ to imitate a flame-inspired eyeshadow look.  
“Well, this has been an absolute disaster. I feel like I’m losing clumps of eyeshadow every time I blink, and it feels sandy and irritating on my skin. But you have got to give it to Togari: I have never seen a Palette that features colours that are eye-biting and yet completely bland before. Though the surprise gift of a long, brown hair inside the sealed Palette wasn’t for me. But you know, if you see these Palettes in your local bargain bin, I’d say go for it.” He gave a cheeky wink, before rattling off his usual goodbyes, like and subscribe, yadda yadda.

_Click._

Hisoka took the camera and set it by his computer. Before he could even think about editing, he must wipe away whatever the hell was in that shabby palette. Of course it wasn’t the worst make-up he had ever worn; it probably wouldn’t even make it in the bottom 10, he wasn’t here to make friends and spoon-feed his competition compliments. If a creator dares to churn out a subpar product, they have to deal with the consequences.

After practically subjecting himself to water torture via make-up remover towels, the man grabbed another whiteclaw from the fridge, and settled into his office chair.  
Digging through business emails was a boring, repetitive task, deleting promo-email after promo-email, practically begging him to promote some skin-care vitamins or boring phone app. Clicking the nails of his free hand against his desk, he tapped away at the delete button in a rhythm only known to him.

Finally reaching the bottom of his inbox, he switched to his private Inbox with a satisfied smile, an expected email already waiting for him. “From: I. Zoldyck: Roma Fashion Week Promos”. _To my private Email, dear Illumi? How shockingly Intimate~_ Hisoka mocked in his head while opening the mail. 

_“Hisoka._

_Attached are 3 Designs I plan to show off at the show. Chose one for the collaboration and let me know in time._

_Sincerely,_

_Illumi Zoldyck.”_

Under his signature, 3 files were lined up, boringly titled “Design Roma 1/2/3”. Hisoka opened the first file and is greeted by a 2-piece suit with a light pink base colour, and blue-green flower highlights that frame the pockets and seams of the jacket, and the belt of the pants. _Not bad, not bad._

The second file contained another 2-piece suit, this time with a black base colour, and a repeating roman-vase pattern in eye-catching blues, pinks, and oranges. _Lovely pattern, and what a revealing jacket cut~._ He was sure he had found his favourite, already planning a matching make-up look. But it wouldn’t hurt looking at the last design for pity, right?

Hisoka audibly gasped in a mixture of shock and flattery and laid a hand over his heart to complete the star performance. Staring back at him was a beautiful white-jeans design, patterned with colourful card-suits dotting the jacket and pants. The pattern was ever so slightly washed out, faking a vintage look. _This is it. Mine._ His heart was beating through his chest, and for the first time in a while he was truly speechless.

He had 3 more weeks until the show, but his mind was already bursting with inspiration, and when he later laid in bed, he couldn’t contain his grin as he texted.

_“Hisoka: You already know which one im choosing~_ _♥️_ _♥️♥️_ _”_

* * *

Gon had been streaming for a good hour or so, talking excitedly to his chat about the new Season of Fortnite, admiring new skins that he was definitely going to try and get. Every new pass just meant a new challenge for him to prove himself, and it was undeniable that it was satisfying to work and game hard to get what he wanted. Just as he was about to ask chat if he should go another row, or change games for the night, a discord message drew his attention away.

“Kil: Yo, wanna team up? :p”

Filled with even more excitement, Gon returned his attention back to his stream. “Everyone, today we are going to feature a special guest!”


	2. Speedrun Strats for Fortnite?

Gon Freecs had started his twitch account mostly for fun. After he had saved enough of his money from summer jobs to afford a computer for himself, the young boy had discovered the vast world of video games, diving headfirst into whatever flash games or free steam games he could (Until Mito caved and gave him some redeemable online gift cards as a present). Pretty quickly he started making connections over some of those games, getting invited to discord groupchats, and developing friendships with people he’d frequently play with.

  
One Day, his friend Leorio, a medical student from France who Gon had met through one of those groupchats, asked if he wanted to join his Sunday Stream. He explained that they’d just team up for a couple of rounds of Fortnite, and Gon could leave whenever he wanted to if he ended up not liking the Twitch experience. Leorio did not admit to the fact that he only asked Gon because his usual partner bailed due to a bad hangover, and he himself was too hungover to manage a stream by himself.  
This resulted in a lively evening filled with banter, excited yelling, and only minor technical difficulties considering Gons location further out in the country. Leorio ended the stream, thanking his viewers, signing off, but he stayed on call with Gon.

“Thanks so much for jumping in today, I owe you!” His French accent wasn’t too thick, but it still curled around his words. 

“Its no problem! It was actually pretty fun, so if you ever need another stream-pal...” The young boy trailed off as he started to feel faint traces of sleepiness creeping up on him. His computer screen was the only light on in the room, and it wasn’t exactly gentle on his eyes.

“About that actually; Have you thought about trying to stream for yourself?”

“Huh?” Gon could hear the tell-tale creaking of Leorios chair as he reclined back. “I mean, you’ve definitely got the energy for it, you’re not half bad at playing video games; Though that’s not really a requirement...Point is, I think you’d have fun with it.”  
Gon let the thought of it roll around his mind like a marble. He did have a lot of fun livestreaming this once, and there wasn’t anything that exactly spoke against it, except maybe that his sleep schedule could suffer under it. But that may as well be expected of a boy his age.

“Do you think people would really come to watch me play video games?” He finally asked, voice lined more with curiosity rather than insecurity.  
“Are you kidding? My chat _loved_ you! Everyone loves a cute kid whose always one victory royale away from changing his legal name into his gamer tag and develop an addiction to monster energy.”  
Gon giggled in reply, “I’m not even allowed to drink those.”  
“Thank God you aren’t, if you had any more energy than you already have, you’d probably explode on the spot. Those things are loaded with junk anyways.” Gon decided not to bring up the infamous Redbull-pyramid that always lingered in the corner of Leorios videos. He could always use that another time if Leorio tried to lecture him about healthy living habits.

“Well, I guess I could try it out this week…But I think I’d need a guide to help me set the whole thing up…” Gon grinned to himself, hearing the familiar creaking again as Leorio sat up straight on the other end.

“I mean, I did say I owe you, and who would I be to leave a kid struggling with modern technology. And since my chat seemed to love you, I may even host your first stream, get you some exposure, y’know?” Mission success, Gon fed into Leorios ego and ensured that he wouldn’t have to struggle with stream setup by himself. He was quite thankful for the older mans (by stretch of that word) help and friendship, almost like an older brother, switching between caring protectiveness and friendly torment.

“Now, isn’t it time for you to get some shut-eye?” Busted. Gon glanced at the clock in the corner of his screen, 12:13 am. They said their Goodbyes, and the young boy settled into bed almost as quickly as he fell asleep.

The coming week, as promised, Leorio had helped Gon figure out his stream setup, settling for his channel name ‘Foxbeargaming’. With each passing day and conversation about the topic, Gon felt the static inside him build up, excitement and anticipation mixing in his bloodstream, until that long-awaited Friday.  
  


And it was worth that wait. Gon spend a good 3 hours that day streaming Fortnite, at first in Teams with Leorio and his usual stream-pal Zepile, and later a few single matches. He hadn’t even realized how easy it came to him to interact with chat, leisurely talking about what came to mind, joking about events in the game, and just basking in this new way of releasing his bubbly energy. Leorio had warned him that he may feel exhausted after the first stream, but that’s not at all what the young boy experienced; After turning everything off, he was still beaming with joy. When he nestled into bed, he curled to his side, trying to repress his smile, though it would still take a good hour before he had calmed down enough to drift to sleep.

That joy he had experienced was enough to drive him to continue to stream at least once every 5 days, not consistent enough to build a schedule, but often enough to slowly gather a fanbase, loyal viewers who started tuning in whenever he announced a stream. It took a couple of months before people started posting his stream highlights to YouTube, and after that only a few weeks before someone offered to do official edits for him, on his own YouTube channel. A YouTube channel ended up drawing even more attention to him, people in Twitch-chat mentioning they found him through compilations and highlights.

Of the people whose attention was caught by the bright faced boy, one appeared for the first time in chat while he was streaming Super Mario 64, a palate cleanser from his usual Fortnite streams. The first message had been inconspicuous enough, provoking, but not too much out of the ordinary.

_“KilCat666: try a BLJ lol”_

This however prompted Gon's entire chat to egg him on to try various speedrun tactics, until the rest of the stream was spent attempting (and failing) a “Lobby Backwards Long Jump”. Gon took it well and promised chat that if they wanted to he’d try to practice again on the next stream, asking for tips in his Discord chat. Speedrunning wasn’t really his way of playing games, he was too impatient and would rather experience the game as intended, but it shook things up, and was a surprisingly great way to regain focus after playing a different game for too long.  
Soon enough, the Server started bubbling with tutorials, tips, and heated discussions about optimal routes. Gon read through the chat, enjoying how everyone seemed to get into the topic, while also mourning his dwindling attention span as more and more messages came in. With the overflow of information, his brain felt like it was thrown into a deep fryer (Though maybe he was just hungry). Defeated, he dropped his head on his desk. Maybe he bit off more than he could chew. How was he supposed to take all this information in and actually learn it in time for the next stream? This was worse than school. Maybe he should ju-

_Bloop._

Gon raised his head from his desk, greeted by a new private message. It wasn’t anyone from his friends-list, but that wasn’t too unusual, a lot of people from his Server would DM him, and he didn’t mind talking with anyone who had something to say to him.

_“Kil: Yo.”_

_“Kil: do you need like help with SM64 lol”_

The young boy adjusted his tired eyes to the screen, trying to find recognition into the profile picture of a white cat, but not finding it.

_“GON: Hi!! :^D I’m taking tips right now if you have any!”_

_“Kil: your inputs were really sloppy lol”_

Ouch, though true.

_“Kil: but you’ve got morale at least”_

_“Kil: I made a short guide on my channel, if u wanna check it out?”_

Attached to the last message was a link to a YouTube video, and just as announced, it was a eight minute tutorial on “LBLJ”, with text overlay explaining the various steps. What stood out more to Gon however, was the view and subscriber count to the Channel ‘Kilcat666’. After scrolling through the channel a bit more, and following another link to an adjacent Twitch channel with the same name, it dawned on him; This guy was a pro.

_“GON: WOW :^O you are really good at this!!!!”_

For a while, Gon thought that’s it. He browsed through a couple more of this kid’s videos. He was usually just referred to as ‘Kil’ or in rare instances ‘Killu’, and there wasn’t much on him as a person, just a short bio: “Kil, 14, him/his, Yorkshire area. SM64 0 Star contender.”. His streams of attempting to break the World record for any given game got a reasonable amount of viewers, with a steady fanbase that would spam inside jokes and cat emojis in chat. And in no single video did he ever show his face, or even speak. The only real communication he seemed to do with his audience was the occasional answer in chat, or text-overlays in his YouTube videos. Gon thought about how he was a little honoured to have another well known streamer actually give him advice and watch his stuff, though obviously it seemed that Kil wasn’t interested in keeping more in conta-

_Bloop._

_“Kil: Thanks uh, if you’d want to, we could like make a deal?”_

_“GON: What kind of deal? :^O”_

_“Kil: I could show you some tricks for casual speedrunning”_

_“Kil: And maybe if you want to you could show me how to get better at fortnite lol”_

Gon was beaming. He wasn’t sure why, but he was grinning from ear to ear, and it didn’t even register to himself that he was already typing up a response until he hit the enter button.

_“GON: Sure!!!!!! :^D!!!! Have you ever played before? We can team up with a friend of mine for the first couple rounds!”_

Killua was never a child with many friends. Or any friends. Growing up sheltered by his family, with the mindset of one day inheriting a multimillion-dollar company, it was taught to him that acquaintances were convenient, friends were distractions.

When he got pulled out of school and put into home-schooling, it was because his friends at school were distractions.

When he snuck out to play with other kids in the country, he was placed on supervised house arrest, because he had been too distracted.

When he noticed his brother appearing in some weirdos YouTube video, he had to be told “That man is not my friend, he is a work associate.”

And like a drop of water can gradually tear through stone, the constant echoing of this rule tore through Killuas head. He still didn’t want to overtake the family legacy, but he knew better than to endanger others with his efforts of finding friendship. Instead, he decided to find solitary distractions, and found those in video games he first borrowed (or rather, took without being noticed) from his older brother. Gradually, he got more and more invested in video games, how they work, and the cultures surrounding them. That is how he found out about Speedrunning and streaming.  
Speedrunning was fascinating to the young boy. The effort to clear a game as fast as possible, faster than anyone else, past all supposed limitations a game would present casual players with. Specific tricks would look messy and incoherent to untrained eyes, but the hidden inputs were mechanical and exact. _This is a distraction worth investing in._

At first, he didn’t care much about streaming or even recording his attempts. However, as he was slowly approaching Regional and World Records, there was hardly a way around it if he wanted to get verified records published. So, he started a Twitch Account, opting to go for his shortened name “Kil”, a half-assed attempt at keeping his family off of his tail. And as his collection of Top-3 Records grew, so did his audience when he was streaming attempts. When he got used enough to a game, he learned how to read chat while playing, even occasionally taking the time to answer questions, followed by a wave of excited cat emotes.

_These are not friends, they are fans._

If he could continue to justify this, keep these people at a distance from him, it would be fine. Minimal interaction. No attachment. Easy enough.

It should have been easy enough.

But when he went through active play sessions of Super Mario 64 on Twitch, and he chose to tune into the first stream that popped up, it stopped being easy.  
It stopped being easy when he found himself laughing along with the cheery voice of the young streamer.

He wasn’t sure what he expected when he sent that first discord message. A small part of him hoped that this Gon kid wouldn’t reply. That way he could have just written him off as some vain lowtier streamer who isn’t worth Killuas time.

But of course he replied. And of course he would reply so kindly despite being contacted by a random stranger. Killua could feel something pull in his chest writing back and forth with Gon.  
This was just friendly- _no_. This was normal banter between two streamers who were exchanging helpful information. Two young, up-and-coming professionals in video game streaming, who can communicate like professionals.

_Like work associates._

Work associates help each other out. They make deals. So, it would be okay if Killua would make a deal with Gon. Maybe get to know him in the progress, just a little, just enough to get a sense of his personality.

The pull in Killuas chest subsided when Gon agreed to his deal. But it would come back the first time they were on a call together, the first time Killua let someone else online hear his voice, hushed through a shitty in-ear cable headset, careful that he wouldn’t draw attention if someone were to walk past his room. And it subsided again when he heard Gon laugh at every bad joke he’d tell, loosened even more when he let himself laugh with him.  
Gon would try his best to follow any instructions he’d been given to learn speedrun strategies, and in turn Killua would let himself be guided through fortnite battles and aim-lessons. They worked well together, as if they had known each other for years, falling into a natural rhythm of jokes and casual conversation. This rhythm would continue for weeks, always coordinating when to call, taking turns with the games they would play.

  
Slowly, they started branching out to more games to play with each other.  
Slowly, Gon introduced Killua to his _friends._  
Slowly, Killua got used to speaking on stream, just so Gon and he could guest-star on each other’s streams.

Through this gradual process, Killua felt like he was trapped in a pot of water, and the heat was being turned up just slow enough that he wouldn’t notice until its too late. Until the pull in his chest would threaten to tear him apart.

And then it did, as his mother raised her voice at the breakfast table, “You’ve been spending an awful lot of time on your Computer, Killua.”

“So is Milluki.” He tried to keep his voice unwavering, desperately trying to keep all of these gathered secrets behind it.

“We are just concerned of what you are doing on there; The internet has a lot of dangerous sides..” Kikyo Zoldyck was awfully good at turning her voice into a wail at any given time. Killua could feel his phone in his pocket vibrate from what he was sure was a message from Gon.

 _“..Maybe we should put some restriction on your use of it. Before it can start distracting you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha i would have published this sooner but i got caught up in exams lol.  
> Not used to writing longer, semi-serious stuff, so if the wording is weird, please excuse it.  
> Critique is heavily encouraged. :) thank you.  
> again big thanks to my girlfriend for proofreading this. 
> 
> see you next chapter, hopefully <3


	3. Infected by your genetics

Illumi woke up to shouting. No matter how often this happened, it would startle him each and every time, and prompted him to jump out of bed and try to locate the source of commotion. After he brushed his hair messily out of his face, he approached the dining room.   
He leaned against the doorframe, peeking into the large room. His mother was seated in her usual spot at the large table, clutching her hands over her mouth. On the opposite side, Illumis younger brother had pushed his chair away, standing up to gesture and shout wildly at his mother.

“I am not a little kid! No one else gets their _~technology privileges~_ revoked! Just admit that you’re too bad of a mother to properly keep me under the control you so badly want!” His voice was already starting to crack under the strain. Illumi thought about interfering, though the curiosity of observing how his mother would try to keep the situation under control won him over.

Kikyo Zoldyck was the perfect matriarch, ruling over the English estate with an iron grip, while her Husband was either in their Japanese estate for business matters, or on ‘hunting trips’ with his father. She always insisted on perfect presentation of herself and her children, Illumi wasn’t sure if he had ever seen her repeat one outfit combination. It was a shame that the medical sunglasses she had to wear at all times ruined the harmony of her outfits almost all times.   
Because not even the perfect matriarch can avoid medical problems. Thus, Kikyo had to learn how to properly treat her oversensitive eyes, taking most of her eyesight with it. On top of that, her immune system seemed to weaken with each passing day. Illumi, as the eldest child, got to investigate some of her medical records to ensure her safety in case of an emergency. He had learned how to dress her wounds that would re-open frequently, how to apply eyedrops in case she wasn’t able to, and which medication was for which ailment.

Illumi recognized the exhaustion that was quickly overtaking his mother, the way her face had been drained of all colour, and her entire body seemed to shake under the tension. He was about to intervene before her conditioned worsened, when she spoke up again, “I just want to do what is best for you! It will be good for you to have a break from all that bad energy the computer gives you.”

“The only bad energy I get is from this fucking family!”

The swear echoed through the large room, and for a few seconds there was only silence as a mother confronted the reality of her precious son having entered yet another teenage rebellion. Illumi observed his mothers face closely, as he thought again about whether he should intervene or let her tend to her motherly duties herself.

It took a couple more seconds for Kikyo to stand up, straighten herself, and raise her voice, unshaking, unwavering. “You are going to your room this instance, young man. I will have your brother remove your computer from your room in half an hour.” _Consequent, how surprising._

The young Zoldyck kicked against a table leg, before running out of Illumis field of view. The last thing he heard was “I am going to drink a hundred Energy drinks and puke on everything you love!”

With a sigh Kikyo sat back down in her chair and rested her face gently in the palms of her hands. Illumi took this silence as the best opportunity to enter the room and approached his mother's side.

"Mother, good morning."

"Oh, Illumi, what am I going to do?" She wailed again, as if this argument was the greatest tragedy to befall the family.

"He was such a good little boy just a few years ago. Now he swears, and yells, and that same twinkle of rage in his eyes, just like his father."

He is also my father, Illumi thought, though that minor detail didn't seem important to the conversation.

"I will take away his personal Computer after getting dressed."

"Illumi, you are such a good child for your mom, never disappoint her, alright?" She took his hand and pressed it firmly. The young man shuddered at the contact, it was so easy to forget how cold and thin her hands were, as if the bones and tendons could snap under any more pressure. He rested his free hand on top of hers, reassuring, comforting, he thought, having seen people do that in movies and shows. Real comfort and contact were of course a rarity in the Zoldyck family. After Killuas birth, Kikyo would pour all her overbearing love onto him, only to have it be rejected, repeating the process with slightly more success after Kallutos birth. The children would tolerate each other, though interaction was kept to the bare minimum. And though Illumi was sure that his parents were in love, at least to the extent that he understood what that meant, he could not recall the last time he witnessed them exchange any form of endearment.

"Of course, mother." With that, he broke the contact, and returned to his room. He traded his pyjamas for comfortable black slacks, and a loose white button down with light green roll-tabs. The eldest Zoldyck child took his time brushing his well-groomed black hair, fixed his collar, and gave himself a last look down in the mirror.

As he walked down the long hallway of the second floor of the mansion, he could already hear the loud music his younger brother was angrily blasting, considering if it were worth it to go back and grab earplugs. Their mother was right, Killuas tantrums had picked up the last couple of years, and it only seemed to have gotten worse _. Show dogs with bad temper get temporary Hormone chips implanted,_ he thought _, I wonder if there is an equivalent for humans._

The door to Killuas room wore its signs of anger and emotions through patched-up holes and sloppy paint cover-ups. Illumi turned the doorknob, though he already expected it to be locked.

“Killu, open the door.”

The music turned louder, and Illumi scrunched his nose in frustration. “Killu.”

“Piss off!” The young boys voice strained against the loud music, barely reaching over the aggressive lyrics of a middle-aged man complaining about his life and whatever he deemed wrong with it.

_Enough with the polite formalities_ , Illumi thought as he fumbled in his pockets for the master key he had been entrusted with a couple years prior. Effortlessly the lock clicked open, and the knob turned once more… But the door did not budge.

Another turn of the knob, push of the door, with just slightly more force, and a small gap formed for just a second.

“Are you leaning against the door?” In fact, Killua forced his entire weight against the door. Illumi might have thought it was a cute attempt, if it hadn’t been directly intervening with his goals. So, he gave a more hearted push, which forced the door to open wider before it snapped shut again.

“Just leave me alone!”

“I will leave you alone once I have confiscated your Computer. This is your last chance to behave and let me in.”

“I’m going to set all your ugly new fabric on fire!”

Illumi sighed in frustration, before he pushed harder against the door in a swift motion, forcing it open despite Killuas best efforts to push against it. Quickly the young boy jumped in front of his computer, arms spread as a last-ditch barrier. Illumi approached slowly, his head tilted slightly to the side. “Killu, you misbehaved and now you have to accept the consequences. This is going to be a good lesson for you, you can spend your time being more productive.”

Killua straightened his back and returned his older brothers emotionless stare. “You don’t know what’s good for me! No one here does!”

“You don’t know what’s good for yourself either, you are a child. In a couple of years, when you lead the company, you’ll be very thankful to me for this.” Without much of an effort, he shoved his younger brother aside, and started to unplug the computers various wires.   
Almost immediately after he had been pushed away, Killua started grabbing and punching at his brother’s hands and arms in a vain effort to stop him.   
“Illumi, please, don’t!” His voice started to crack and break under the pressure it has already been under the entire morning. “Can you just for once not do whatever the hell mom tells you to do, and actually help me? _Please?_ ”

Illumi lifted the tower of the computer and straightened his back, facing his brother again. A surprisingly gentle smiled creeped up his lips.

“Killu, I _am_ helping you. And your future. And the future of the Zoldyck family.” He started to turn to the door and leave, though not before he could hear Killua scream out in frustration,

“ _I hate you, you fucking lap-dog!_ ”

But of course, Illumi knew that wasn’t true. Killua couldn’t hate him. They were brothers, and there is nothing that could sever a bond like that. Even after Killua had already set fire to his brother’s fabric stock before. Even though the times he would tell him he hates him started to outweigh the times he said he loved him. Even now, Illumi having taken away something that seemed so absurdly important to Killua, he was sure his little brother could never truly despise him.

As is with everything that the children weren't supposed to have, the Computer tower got locked away inside Silva Zoldycks study. Illumi couldn't place the feeling, but something felt off about no longer having this rule apply to him, not only because there was never any reason to punish him this way, but also because he had access to this otherwise off-limits area.

_Fucking Lap-dog._

The grandfather clock in the entrance hall of the mansion struck 9 am. Technically he was still on schedule, Illumi didn't want to risk any more distractions that could make him late. He grabbed the neatly packed black suitcase and leather bag from his room, double checking if he had packed all of his samples, extra fabrics, and the likes, before returning to the dining room.

Kikyo had restored her makeup from any flaws the earlier breakdown had caused. She idly reviewed articles that third-party journalists had send in, in the hopes that they might make it into the next issue of the highly appraised fashion magazine. Her protective black eyewear had been gently pushed down the slope of her nose, revealing the stinging red, bloodshot eyes underneath.

“Mother, I am leaving for the airport shortly.” He kept his voice low while he slowly approached her side. Kikyo discarded the article she was holding into one of the neat piles she had made, presumably one pile for rejected articles, one for second review, before she faced her son.

“How long are you going to be away for, again?” It almost sounded accusatory.

“About four to five days, depending on the flight availability, and if I can make new clients after the show.”

“Try to make it four days, I need you back here to handle some interviews for the September Issue.”

Illumi hated being on a tight schedule. Though he was good at working under pressure, he still did not _like_ it. “Can’t Milluki tr- “

“Milluki is extremely busy editing, Illumi. You shouldn’t try to push your work onto your brother like that, just because you want to have a longer vacation.”

_It’s not a vacation, it’s a reveal of a personal collection that I earn my own money with and make independent clients at_ _and that I worked day and night on_ _and also_ -

“I will do my best to be home as soon as possible, mother.”

“Good. Try to represent our family well at the show.” And with that, Kikyo picked another article from the large stack, seemingly satisfied with the parting conversation.

Illumi grabbed his bags and made his way towards the entrance hall. A chauffeur already stood ready to drive him to the airport, and from a glance to the clock he knew his schedule was still intact. In his head he marked off his to-do list, double and triple checking if he had gotten everything he needed. _Tickets, wallet, samples, customary gi- where is it?_ Hastily he started rummaging through the leather bag.

“Looking for something?” Killua appeared in the doorway behind him, carelessly throwing a small plastic package from one hand to the other. “Since when do you like red liquorice?”

Illumi scanned the package, relieved when he spotted the red ribbon still neatly tied around it. “It’s not for me.”

“You’re buying candy for your clown-friend?” Killua scoffed.

“He’s not my friend, and not a clown.” Illumi tilted his head as he blankly stared Killua down. “Can you give that back to me now? It is just a customary gift.”

“If you give me my computer back, you’ll get the clowns candy back.”

The air turned cool as Illumi slowly approached his younger brother, head tilting from one side to the other, his voice kept low.

“Killu, you are not in the position to propose trades like that.” He rested a hand on his brothers’ shoulder, leaned down to whisper easily in his ear. “I did you a favour by not reminding mother of your phone. Don’t make me regret being kind to you.”

And as he felt his brother freeze under his touch, he grabbed the candy with ease, and turned back around.

“I’ll see you in a couple of days, Killu. Study good.”

* * *

Hisoka lounged on his fainting couch, the midday sun coated his living room in a comfortable orange shine through his white balcony drapes. The temptation of a nap settled sweetly on his eyelids, still worn out from another night spent editing and releasing a new video. The pressure of trying to stay on schedule during a fashion week wasn’t necessarily something Hisoka looked forward to, so he only hoped that this new drama video would keep his fans at bay for a couple of days, something about a doll-maker channel who seemed to have a god complex.

Just as he was about to give into the warm comfort of sleep, the vibration of his phone pulled him back.

_" Bellisimo <3: Will arrive in about 10 minutes. " _

_"Hisoka: Yes, your majesty! "_

Now wide awake, the artist stretched his tired limbs, and pulled himself from the couch.  
Once he had made his way to the kitchen, preparations for his friend’s arrival had to be made.   
Out from the fridge he took a small, colourful box, tied shut at the handle with an elegant black ribbon. _Not room temperature, but not cold out of the fridge either._   
Neatly, he placed a white porcelain plate and a cake fork on the kitchen island.   
The last step, of course, was to boil water and wait.

Waiting wasn't one of Hisokas specialties though. He paced around the apartment like a mad animal in a zoo, only stopping once in a while to re-arrange knickknacks on shelves and desks. The anticipation tingled in his fingertips.

The sound of a car coming to a hold.  
Hisoka grabbed the bag of black tea and dropped it in the water.

The snap of multiple car doors.  
He slowly poured the fresh tea into a clean white cup and placed it next to the plate.

_Ding_ _♪_

There was no need to even ask who it was over the intercom, all he needed to do was activate the buzzer for the main door and linger at the apartment door for just a couple more seconds.   
He listened to the footsteps ascending the stairs. _Only one pair; how rude to make your Chauffeur wait._

_Knock Knock_

Hisoka swung the door enthusiastically open, the excitement to see the other almost too much to handle.

Blank, dark eyes greeted him. Illumis hair was, as usual, combed to a silky perfection. Hisoka was just a couple of centimetres taller than him, but he still felt an urge to tower over the other, to hunt him into a corner like small prey.

But instead he stepped aside, gave the other one enough room to enter the apartment. This last test of patience had become practiced, but never seemed to get easier. He wanted to greet and touch and release the tension tugging at all his muscles and nerves-

But not before Illumi has settled in. That was the rule.

So, he waited and watched as the other one dropped a leather brief case next to the kitchen island, and seated himself in front of the table set. Gracefully Illumi lifted the cup of tea to his lips, and he took a small sip, eyes closed and composed.

Full of expectation Hisoka leaned closer towards his visitor, who in turned tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, opening the dark void to his eyes once more.

"Acceptable."

Immediately Hisoka lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Illumi. "It's so nice to have you back, darling! Is the flavour alright? I bought it from a store in Florence and they promised it would be up to British taste."

"It is tolerable- Hisoka let go before I burn your face with this." Illumi struggled his way out of the embrace and pulled the wrinkles out of his shirt. "But next time you will have to let the tea sit longer in the water before serving, so that the flavour can fully develop."

“The day I make the perfect tea for you, I deserve a wild celebration.” The makeup artist waved his hand in a celebratory gesture and took a seat next to his friend-who-doesn’t-call-him-friend. “You hungry?”

Illumi bend over the table and tugged at the ribbon that kept the colourful box at the centre of the table closed. The folds of the box came undone to reveal a beautiful chocolate roll cake, with white-chocolate flower décor neatly placed on top. Hisoka held out a knife for him to take, and the treat was cut into in one smooth motion.   
_A last test of approval._

Hisoka watched closely as Illumi took the first bite. The way his eyes closed as soon as the fork came to his lips. The almost-unnoticeable roll of his head in consideration. How he bopped his fork up and down. Everything about Illumi Zoldyck screamed grace and life and anticipation for every passing second. And in this moment, he was all his.

“It’s very good.”

“I would have made cake myself, but I didn’t feel like poisoning you, my dear.”

“Appreciated. I have a gift for you, as thanks for your hospitality.” Illumi bend down and grabbed his leather bag. While he shuffled around in it, Hisoka lured over his shoulder, with the smile of an excited child on Christmas morning. “Continue breathing down my neck and you won’t get anything.”

Not wanting to risk missing out on the oh-so-rare show of affection Illumi promised, he leaned back. “Do you want me to pretend to be coy and not want your gift, or can I just greedily rip it from your hands?”

The black-haired man turned around, and presented a small plastic package, tied shut with a red ribbon. It took less than a second to recognize what it was.

“Just take it. You mentioned once that you like it, and you’ve significantly improved at being a host for these meetings.”

Hisoka took the present from the others hands, far more gentle than necessary, and he snickered. “This is the strangest friendship I’ve been a part of.”

“We are not friends.” _Ouch._

“This is the strangest... partnership?”

Illumi rolled his eyes, “If you want to call it that. But if you tag me in a video again as your ‘partner’ again, you’ll never see me again. I don’t need more congratulatory-slash-death-threat letters.”

“Fair enough!” Hisoka jumped off his chair and circled around the other one. “But mentioning videos, how about we start recording for our collab? I am practically dying to finally try on my new suit.”

Illumi sighed, brushed some stray hairs behind his ear, and dug through his leather bag again, only this time to retrieve a neatly folded, string-tied package. “Id suggest wearing a plain black shirt under the jacket.”

Hisoka grinned, “What about- “

“You are going to wear a shirt under it.” _Ouch, too fast._

Without another word, he took the clothes from Illumi, and disappeared into his bedroom. As he ripped at the neat packaging, he tried to think of a snarky way to make fun of this overly neat way to transport clothing. But all those thoughts vanished when he actually held the clothes in his hands, gentle fingertips that ran over firm fabric and neat seams. The pictures in the email didn’t give this piece the justice it deserved. The different coloured card-suits didn’t stand out too harshly against the white jeans fabric but were defined enough to be recognized for what they are.

And once he pulled the fabric on his body, corrected the collar of the jacket, and stretched a bit to get a feel… He was mesmerized. The mirror fixed to his closet door couldn’t even capture the feeling in his chest that threatened to punch out his sternum.

Hisoka practically sprinted back into the open kitchen and struck rapid poses. “Do I look as good as how I feel, darling?”

“I told you to wear a shirt, maggot.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus points for anyone who can guess where the chapter title is from.  
> This would have been much sooner if i wasn't extremely busy with class work.   
> Unfortunately i also start working again soon, so the schedule is going to stay tight.   
> Thanks for reading. Criticism is appreciated. Stay safe.


	4. Shifting Sand Land

Illumi had always feared that one day he might inherit any of his mother's illnesses. It wasn't out of the question, and he considered himself lucky that no ailment had reared its head so far into his life.

"Do I look as good as how I feel, darling?"

Until now.

Suddenly it felt like years of sickness had caught up with him, spun his head around and made his stomach curl.

It was a coincidence that this sickness would appear the second he laid eyes on Hisoka, wearing the suit that was fitted just for him.

It was a coincidence that he looked like all those marble statues in museums, sculpted in the image of gods and lovers.

It was a coincidence that this sickness could be swallowed and repressed like any measly feeling he had ever encountered.

"I told you to wear a shirt, maggot."

And the symptoms disappeared.

But the disease didn't.

* * *

_Gon: Killua?_

It had been quite a while since Killua had responded to any of Gons messages. Well, it had been about 2 hours. But compared to their normal pace of slinging messages at each other any passing minute, this felt like an eternity to the young boy. He wondered if he had done anything to upset his friend, though their last conversation was just usual banter about breakfast, snacks, and the new battle pass.

He fidgeted in his seat a bit more, the classwork Aunt Mito had supplied him with almost entirely forgotten. The now broken routine made his bones itch, but the attempt of any distraction just made him fear he'd miss when Killua would finally come back.

So, he waited.

He even started half-heartedly filling out the math quiz that had been taunting him from the corner of the desk, though he always glanced back at the computer screen.

_Question number 27: (X-3)²-25= 0_

_Ping_

Gon wasn't sure what to do first; Be thankful that finally Killua replied or be thankful that he found an escape from this hell called math.

_Kil: Yo._

_GON: Hey!!! Are you okay? :O_

_Kil: Yeah, whats up?_

He was obviously not okay. But Gon knew that pressing the issue wouldn’t make things better, though if he pretended like everything was alright would just be an issue bottled up.

_GON: Do you wanna play some Fortnite Duos maybe? We can try grinding for the new tiger costume you like :D_

_Kil: cant_

_Kil: my mom took my fucking PC away in attempt to become mother of the year_

_GON: :( im sorry!! But im sure she’ll give it back soon, right?_

_Kil: fat chance, I probably have to wait till my brother comes back from his stupid trip_

Gon tilted his head in thought. This has probably been the longest Killua had ever talked about his family with him. Up to this point it had only been passing remarks about siblings whose actions and personalities melted into each other due to lack of discernible unique traits, and that his family was rich.

_GON: How long is that going to be?_

_GON: Maybe your mom will calm down and change her mind <:(_

_Kil: lmao, maybe if id actually study now shed be satisfied enough_

_Kil: but theres no way in hell im going to give her what she wants_

_Kil: ESPECIALLY NOW_

_GON: So whatre you going to do??_

_Kil: idk_

_Kil: talk to you and think about how to set fire to this place?_

The young boy smiled, though for some reason he could feel a knot tighten in his chest.

_GON: How about only talking to me for now?_

And they talked. For a couple of hours, they talked about Gons new streaming schedule, about how he wanted to have one dedicated day in the week solely for collaborations. They talked about a new exploit for Super Mario Sunshine that could potentially scrap 10 seconds off of the current World record if executed correctly. They talked about how Leorios medical-student VLOG channel had been trending again after he made a hypocritical video about the damages of energy drinks.

_Kil: he could have at least cleaned the infamous pyramid out of frame…_

_GON: Haha he said that in hindsight too_

_GON: But I think it was his boyfriend who finally made him clean it up -v-“_

_Kil: must be nice to have someone living with you who gives a shit_

_Kil: I think at this point the housekeeper hasn’t even touched the minefield that’s my brothers room in months_

_GON: It can’t be that bad :”D_

_Kil: you bet?_

_Kil: what do you think, how much chip dust is needed for an anime figure to come to life?_

The mental image of Killuas home slowly shifted in Gons mind again. A large mansion, bedrooms as big as some apartments, with individual housekeepers for everyone. And one room dedicated to imitating a post-apocalyptic anime merch shop.

And somewhere in that large mansion, is a room probably equipped with a messy bed, a (now empty) desk and gaming chair, maybe some shelves with books and games. In the middle of it a slightly blurry figure, maybe a bit shorter than Gon, pale skin and messy hair and piercing bright eyes.

He had seen pictures of Killua, a handful of selfies taken at his desk, one picture his sister (who he’d mention the least from his mysterious family) had taken of him in front of a rose bush. And no matter how dimly lit the picture would be, or out of focus, or taken from a distance; His eyes were always the first thing Gon would focus on. At first, he was convinced that he was using a filter, there’s no way someone in real life would have eyes like that.

But Killua did. Killua hid electricity behind those eyes, dangerous and yet enticing, beaming with a life energy that can barely be contained. Gon had heard poems and songs about blue eyes, though none of them ever came close to describing eyes like these. Or the feeling Gon would get from looking at them, tingling in his fingertips, making him smile and giggle and stomp his feet. Kind of like getting a victory royale.

Gon has other friends besides Killua. But none ever made him feel the same way when they talked. He craved no one’s presence as much as he craved Killuas. And something inside him felt the constant urge to tell Killua that, to tell him how much he meant to him, what’s so amazing about him, how he didn’t want this friendship to end.

But that’s just not something friends would tell each other unprompted, and it’s not something that could easily told to Killua, who danced around the word “friends” as if it were a dangerous animal.   
So, he didn’t say anything.

_Kil: gon?_

_Kil: did you fall asleep?_

_GON: No haha, I was just thinking about how huge your house must be!!_

_Kil: yeah its huge and ugly, sometimes way too loud, sometimes really fucking quiet_

_Kil: im sure it must be nicer in your home_

_GON: I mean, it is pretty nice, but its also a little lonely I think_

_GON: All my friends live closer to the city, so usually no one is around to just come outside and hang out :^T_

_Kil: if I could id fly over right now and you could show me all the gross spiders that rule your continent with 8 iron fists_

_GON: They aren’t gross!! Spiders are really fun once you get to know them :^D_

_GON: And you know, you’d always be welcome here, Aunt Mito would be thrilled to meet you ^^_

And Gon meant it. Though Killua never let too much slip of his family life and surroundings, Gon could tell it was trouble, and he deeply wished he could give Killua even just a one-day break from whatever went down in that mansion.

_Kil: since we are both home schooled, we wouldnt even need to wait for summer break or anything_

_GON: Right :^D And its not like either of us are big on studying either ^^”_

Gon glanced briefly at the disregarded Math work and shuddered.

_Kil: you mean it, right?_

_Kil: if I were to text you some time that im at an airport and im coming over, you wouldnt let me be stranded somewhere on your prison continent, right?_

_GON: Of course not!!!_

_GON: … but I’d prefer it if you give a heads up so I can clean my room :^D_

_Kil: thanks gon, I appreciate it_

_Kil: i appreciate you_

Gon felt his heart-rate skyrocket. Of course he’d let Killua stay, even if he rang at his door without any prior notice. Because even if it goes unsaid, Killua was his friend. Maybe even his best friend. And he’d do anything to keep him safe, or to just give him one minute that he doesn’t have to think about his family. He wanted to see those blue eyes reflect the Australian sun, free of worry and tension.

_GON: I appreciate you, too_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise, i am not dead.   
> I got caught up with school, work, and also writing fanfiction for Pariston and Ging.   
> But now i'm back, and this fic will be the only one ill be actively working on. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Critique is always appreciated. <3 Stay safe.


	5. Grief of Want

Killua held his phone close to his chest, face flushed almost painfully.

_GON: I appreciate you too._

That message had knocked the wind out of the young boy, his heart was racing. It had taken him so much energy to text Gon that he appreciated him, had multiple texts written and deleted that ended in ‘I’m glad you’re my friend’ because in the end he still couldn’t bring himself to say that word, but this had been close enough.

The grip around his phone tightened. The feeling was mutual, mutual appreciation, mutual support, and now Killua got to keep its existence close to his heart and locked away there.

Somewhere in the mansion, his mother harshly ordered some butlers to prepare tea and snacks. He locked his door again, not willing to be bribed outside of his room with bland biscuits and bitter tea.

 _It wouldn’t hurt to look up prices for flights,_ he thought to himself.

_Did Milluki ever change his credit card code?_

* * *

Illumi shifted in his chair as recording for Hisoka’s new video started. Unlike his colleague next to him, who blossomed under the attention of a camera lens, Illumi never knew how to move his body, what to do with his face. After appearing for the first time in a collab with the other, he had been told through the comments that he looks like a mannequin if he didn’t move, and then had been told that that was most likely an insult.

Hisoka went over his regular introductions, explaining the fashion week, how he was going to fashion his make up to match the suit he was wearing-

“…designed by my good colleague, Illumi Zoldyck!” the artist made some flowery hand gestures towards Illumis person.

“Ah, thank you for having me.” The Zoldyck bowed his head a little, before returning to his straight posture.

Hisoka wore a professional smile on his lips, that seemed so inherently different from the masks that Illumi was usually surrounded by. He didn’t hide that glint in his golden eyes, that gave away how easily he’d launch at the throats of his competition at the first show of weakness. Illumi wondered if that glint was directed at him when he wasn’t looking, if the company he’s started to warm up to was secretly waiting for him to do just that, only to immediately slaughter him.

“Now I understand you’re going to upload a process video of this beautiful piece on your channel, but why not give my viewers a little insight into your inspiration for it?”

_Oh._

The slaughter had come quicker than expected. He decided he did not like the rushing fear and anxiety. He didn’t like the prying, golden eyes fixated on only him, as if he knew.

As if Hisoka knew that Illumi designed the suit that last new years eve, huddled away in his room because everyone was too loud and too much, and it didn’t really matter if he was there or not. It was cold, and he felt indifferent to a new year starting, convinced it was going to be the same as the last; Run errands for the company, watch Killua turn into the neatly moulded heir to the fortune that he had been chosen to be, get all his designs rejected because he should just finally drop that hobby of his.   
And it would have been a miserable and yet indifferent night like any other, if at exactly 12 a.m. he wouldn’t have gotten the single text:

_“Hisoka M.: Happy New Year, darling Illumi_ _❤_ _Lets work hard together this year as well, as if you’d ever get rid of me~ “_

Illumi wanted to blame it on being cold, or that his senses were confused by all the lights and sounds. But it felt nice to be thought of, and it felt nice to be encouraged.   
He wanted to return this unfamiliar kindness; in the only way he knew how, not with words but with the only thing he deemed himself good at.

He designed a suit for Hisoka, and for Hisoka only. Moulded to his features, personality, and likes.   
Obviously, he had succeeded, seeing his work on his muse.

But he could never tell Hisoka all of that, and he could never tell it to his millions of followers.

So, instead he simply said "I had the idea for a denim suit in this sort of cut after being inspired by western movies. I wanted to bring the concept closer to our modern age with the fine white, and the colourful card-suits as an accent to poker games as a typical western movie activity."

He looked to Hisoka for approval, who simply smiled and clapped his hands together.

"Right, how fun! Maybe we should go horseback riding together after this, I know a couple of cowboy movies to re-enact~."

Before the Zoldyck could reply with an appropriate reaction -disgust, he thought - Hisoka smoothly transitioned to the next part of the video, explaining what make up look he had in mind, what brands he was going to use, and hissing to his future editing-self to cut out the part where he called his sponsor a "fucking cheapskate".

The artist knew what he was doing, how to best keep his viewers engaged, and how to host a blank-slate guest such as Illumi. On their first collaboration, conversation had been kept to a minimum, but slowly they had found a rhythm to work in, a question and answer to keep air in motion.

"You don't use a lot of makeup, right, Illumi?" Hisoka was almost done applying a powdered foundation, that seemed mixed just to fit his skin.

"Most days I just apply a light moisturizer before I go to bed."

“I don’t doubt that, you’ve got impeccable skin.”

Illumi hesitated at Hisokas purr, “…Thank you.”

The other giggled devilishly, in the way that the designer knew never meant any good. “So, since you don’t use make up, you’re probably helpless when it comes to applying it.”

“I may not have years of experience, but I believe I’d be able to apply it adequately and-“ Before he could finish his sentence, the other man presented him with a lipstick.  
“Then would you do the honours of applying my lipstick for me? Unless you’re doubting your abilities suddenly.”

 _Of course, he’d go for a childish challenge like this,_ Illumi thought while he mustered the rich red colour of the lipstick, perfectly matched to the red values of the suit. He still had the option to refuse, to cut this out in final editing, to continue being a still doll that would occasionally speak.   
But instead, he grabbed Hisoka’s chin with a slight uptilt. “Open your mouth a little.”   
“Oh, Illumi, on the first date alrea-“Illumi pressed the tips of his nails into the others cheeks, which resulted in an excited, yet obedient Hisoka.

The colour came easily and evenly onto his lips as Illumi carefully drew across the curvature, the heat of the artists’ skin seeping into his own. Up close as he was, he could notice all the details in the others face. No scars, evenly tanned, a hint of smile lines around his golden eyes. Illumi thought that he was objectively attractive, and there was nothing wrong with being able to admit that another man had symmetric facial features that were appealing to the eyes. _“Handsome face, rotten personality, someday he will make a lovely girl absolutely miserable.”_ is what Kikyo Zoldyck had initially said after she had watched their first collaboration together.   
“Illumi? Are you painting the mona lisa on me?” Hisoka had slightly retracted out of the others grip, and he smiled as if he knew what he was thinking.   
Illumi withdrew his hand, straightened his back, and averted his eyes. “I was merely admiring the quality of this lipstick. What was it?” 

Distraction via brand pushing, very effective against Hisoka, who immediately snapped back towards the camera, presenting the makeup closer. “Of course! It’s the new Gucci line of matte lipsticks, this is number 500, Odalie Red, I am head over heels for this beauty!”

* * *

  
The rest of the filming process went over relatively smoothly, safe for when Hisoka sneezed so loud that Illumi visibly startled, and when Illumi had to scold Hisoka about wrinkling the suit.

 _Click._ Hisoka turned the camera off, and Illumi laid his head on the table. Filming exhausted him, he didn’t like to maintain his public persona for that long, even though he had been bred to be able to do so. Even though he was no longer the heir. Even though he was the oldest and most capable.

A pleasant coolness took him out of whatever dangerous train of thought he was about to board, and he looked up to see Hisoka offering a bottle of sparkling water. “Good work today~”

His fingers wrapped around the cool glass bottle. “Thank you, you too. I’m pleasantly surprised, you planned out an actual look for today.”

The makeup artist settled back in his chair with a light laugh. “I didn’t want to disappoint you, after you spoil me so well~. I look like I could walk the fashion show myself.”

“You do look very handsome.” Illumi took a sip of his water before he realized what he had said.

Hisoka stared at him, mouth agape.

“It’s probably just the suit complimenting your features-”

Silence.

“I mean, anyone looks handsome if you plaster them with tons of makeup like that-”

Blink, blink.

“And even if you were to look handsome, that doesn’t fix your horrid core-”

Before he could think of any more explanations and excuses for what he said, Illumi was pulled into a hug, his head tucked firmly under Hisoka’s chin, arms wrapped around him. “You’re being an absolute dear today, my dear Illumi~ You may look at me like you want to rip off my head, but I can tell you still are happy to visit!”

And naturally he wanted to protest, wanted to hurl insults at him, and regain his personal space.   
But just for a second, he didn’t want to struggle. He just wanted to take in the warmth that was enveloping him, smell the natural sweetness lingering in the air, and embrace human contact as anyone with a normal upbringing would.

_One._

His hand shot up to grip around Hisoka’s throat. “Do you want to live to see tonight’s show, or are you going to keep suffocating me?”

Immediately Hisoka held his arms up, and the warmth was gone. Illumi patted down his shirt, straightened his collar, and checked his hair in the mirror. It was almost time to leave, if he wanted to be in time to prepare the models and do last minute adjustments.

“Unfortunately, I’ll only live to see the livestream from the comfort of my home.”

“Oh?”

Hisoka started wiping the makeup off his face, a new box of makeup remover being ripped open. “The model I was assigned to for tonight ended up dropping the contract last minute, meaning that my ticket is only effective starting night two.”

“Oh, I see.” Illumi stood up and mustered himself again, checking for any flaws. Somehow, he felt disappointed. “Well, I have to leave anyways, I still need to check the fit of everything.”   
He had to go and check the fit of the collection he was premiering and Hisoka will not be able to see it, and he was disappointed.

“I will pick you up before the second night then, so you don’t have to show up in a cheap taxi again-“He reached out for his bag to swiftly leave through the door, but Hisoka grabbed his wrist, and pulled him into another tight hug.

“I thought you wanted to live to see the show.”

“And I will, and I’ll be there on time to see your premiere, that’s a promise~” The taller man pressed a quick kiss on top of his head, still bearing a sly grin as Illumi ripped himself free once again.

“Don’t do anything stupid, especially not while you’re associating with me.” A pointed finger, and a death stare were the last things Illumi presented to Hisoka as he rushed through the door. He only heard a muffled “But you know me~!” while he descended the stairs.

Subconsciously he ran his fingers over where Hisoka’s lips touched his head.

* * *

Preparations were quickly dealt with. Illumis overly neat and controlled way of working had paid off. No further adjustments to clothes had to be made, all models were prepared and let themselves be pushed and pulled as needed.   
He scanned the crowd behind the curtains, as his models started to line up. In the front row, he spotted one of his mothers’ commissioned writers, a young plain girl, short black hair, and framed glasses, reading over her notes.

He knew she wasn’t going to take notes during his premiere, because she didn’t get paid for that. Because his parents have already told him that his designs will not make it into the magazine.   
It was only a hobby after all. The single distraction he was allowed to have from his duties for the company.   
They didn’t have the need to show off his little hobby in the magazine, like a crayon drawing on the fridge.

The music started, the curtains opened, and Illumi stepped to the side of the stage. The beat of the music mixed with the hard beating of his heart in his chest.   
Anxiously he scanned the crowd for reactions, though camera flashes blinded him quicker than he could look.   
It was a short premiere, sandwiched between two bigger brands showcasing new seasons. The last 3 models walked down the catwalk, Illumis eyes following them closely.

But at the end of the stage, his eyes wandered deep into the crowd.   
And a pink flash at the very end drew his attention.

It unmistakably was Hisoka, hair let down, wearing thick sunglasses and a plain black suit, lips curled into a smile, leaned lazily against the wall.

_He came._

_How the hell did he come in here without a ticket._

_He had no ticket, but he came, and he saw._

And as fast as he appeared, he was gone, disappearing behind someone else’s figure as the last model left the stage.

He forced himself to look away, thanked the models for their work, and left the backstage area in favour for the VIP lounge, finally taking out his phone.

One new message.

_“Hisoka M.: It was breath-taking, caro mio_ _♥_ _”_

_“Illumi: Don’t get caught, Idiot.”_

Someone handed him a glass of champagne and asked questions about the family magazine.

_“Illumi: Let me pick you up tomorrow for the event. You’re the least despicable person here.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was supposed to be maybe 2 chapters, and now we are 5 chapters going strong and still not at the end. If you managed to read up to this point, kudos to you.   
> Critiques are always appreciated. If you want to contact me, my fanfic tumblr is @thethousandyearwitch   
> Lovely day to all.


	6. Blue Sky Athletic

The hotel room was quiet, the Italian sun hadn’t risen yet. Illumi sat himself up in bed and started to mindlessly comb through his hair. He had excused himself from the fashion show the previous night as early as he could. Because he couldn’t stand the lights. The music. The smells. The people.

Yet he was going to return the next night. There were contacts to be made, images to be upheld, a new name to be made for himself…

And he didn’t have to be alone.

A single text message to his butler:

_“Illumi: Get me the keys to a Mercedes AMG GT Black series and leave me be the rest of the day.”_

* * *

Killua had run away from home for the first time when he was 10 years old, with the intent to stay away. His father had scolded him about neglecting his studies, and in response he snuck out through his window with a backpack stuffed with a few clothes and snacks.   
In the end, a butler had caught him before he was able to sneak through the fencing around the large property.

He was undeterred and proceeded to perfect his means of sneaking away from the mansion. By the next summer he was able to consistently make it into town and stay there for an hour or two before a butler eventually found him. Though he wanted to, he never went further than that. Afterall, where was he supposed to go? A young boy traveling without adult supervision would attract attention almost immediately, and it wasn’t like he had friends he could visit (And the risk of running into his father or grandfather when visiting Alluka was too great).

But what if he _had_ a place to go? He was older now, old enough to travel by himself for sure, and money wasn’t a problem as long as his lazy brother would stay blissfully unaware of his credit card expenses.   
Neither Illumi, his father, nor grandfather were home to surveillance him. Milluki barely registered what happens in and around the mansion. Kalluto was young enough to be bribed and trust his big brother when he tells him to keep quiet.

The setup couldn’t get more perfect. Now or never.

Killua shouted down the hall that he didn’t want dinner, peppered with swears here and there to underline anger, and he told Kalluto that if anyone were to set food in front of his door, he was free to take it for himself or Milluki. His CD player blasted metal music loud enough to give the impression of a moody teen dealing with anger issues, but not too loud as to prompt his mother to come in and turn it off herself.

Another cautionary glance down the hallway before he closed and locked his bedroom door from the inside. _Now or Never._

Killua grabbed his pre-packed duffle bag and executed his well-practiced escape via window. His mother would regret the day she removed the bars framing it, foolishly thinking that Killua was ‘grown up’ enough to stop his escape attempts.

A cold breeze grazed his face, and the young boy granted himself a couple of seconds to take it in, wild hair gently swaying in the wind. Of course, he was not going to leave forever. It would only be a matter of time before someone went to retrieve him and lock him back in, chiding him about his ‘responsibilities’ that he couldn’t care less for.

 _But I won’t make it easy._ With that thought, he gave the mansion one last middle-finger, before he quickly turned and headed towards the edge of the property that was closest to town. By now he had the surveillance pattern of the guard dogs memorized and knew exactly where the brick fence was covered by enough ivy to enable easy climbing. Soon enough, Killua was treading through the thick forest in a steady pace. He tried to listen for signs of someone coming after him despite his heart drumming louder in his ears.

Usually he’d be calm, collected, non-caring for breaking out. But this time was different. This time he had a destination in mind, wouldn’t be collected so easily. The grip around his phone tightened. He wondered how long it would take someone in the house to notice. Who would be sent after him; A butler? Would Illumi be called back? His father? How severe will the punishment be-

A branch snapped into the boy’s face, pulling him back from wherever his thoughts were about to wander. The lights of the town became clearer in his sight with every step. It wasn’t a big city by any means, but he didn’t need it to be. All he needed was a cab driver to who accepted credit and didn’t ask question.

In the end, an older cabdriver, he must have been in his sixties already, shrugged carelessly at the request of the young boy to be driven to the airport, mumbled something about rebellious youth and getting paid regardless. Killua discarded the duffle bag into the trunk of the car and sat himself down in the backseat as he fumbled with his phone. The Radio played some repetitious top 40s song about being young and freedom and friendship and following your heart, and he couldn’t help but snort at how grossly it fit.

The sun set against the horizon, the town steadily disappeared behind him, until it was completely out of sight. Every new meter the car cleared was the furthest Killua had ever made it away from home alone.

_Ping._

His phones alarm startled Killua out of his thoughts once again. A single discord notification.

_GON: Good morning! =v=_

The runaway looked through the windshield of the car, in the distance an airport started to come into form.

_Kil: morning, did u sleep okay?_

_GON: Like a baby :p_

_GON: How’re you?? Did you get your PC back yet?_

_Kil: about that actually_

He handed the driver his/Millukis credit card and lifted his bag over his shoulder. No one ever told him how much to tip a cabby, so he assumed 50% was about right.

_Kil: remember how you told me to give you a heads-up if i ever came over so you could clean?_

_GON: Yeah?_

Killua took a quick peace-sign selfie in the large entrance of the airport, in front of the arrival/departure board, and send it promptly in their chat.

_Kil: get cleaning._

* * *

Gon paced around the house as if driven mad, he mumbled about preparations, and food, and accommodations, more to himself really than to Mito who sat at the table, gentle smile on her lips.

“Gon, it’ll still be almost an entire day till he gets here. I’m sure he won’t be disappointed. Now remind me again, his parents are really okay with such a spontaneous visit to a virtual stranger across the globe?” Her smile was warm, but her eyes drilled threats into him.

“We’re not virtual strangers! We’ve been talking for months; I probably know him better than any of his siblings!”

“I’d just feel a bit more at ease if I could have talked with his parents in advance. What if he has any illnesses or allergies I’d need to be mindful of? What if there’s an emergency and I need their contact information?”

Instead of admitting that he did not think of all of that, Gon chose to smile with more confidence, “I’ll just make sure there’s no emergencies! I’m not a little kid anymore!” He stepped closer to where she was seated and rested with his arms and head on the table. “He’s a really good friend and hasn’t been feeling well. I think this could be really good for him, and it’s not like I have many other people to hang out with around here. But if you are really that concerned, I promise that he’ll write down his parents’ number and address! So, it’s okay, right?”

The woman sighed in defeat and brushed through Gon’s unruly hair. “You really are a troublemaker with best intentions. Don’t make me regret this.” The young boy beamed in response and pulled his guardian into a hug. Before he could promise that he wouldn’t, she raised her voice again, “But don’t think this will get you out of studying.”

Gon groaned in agony, though it was quickly followed by another laugh. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“I do, but it doesn’t hurt to be reminded once in a while. Now go fetch the cot from the garage, or do you want your friend to sleep on the floor?” 

With an energetic nod, he sprinted out the room, leaving Mito alone in the room as she tapped her fingernails against her cup of tea. Her eyes wandered to an old picture of Gons father. _He’s becoming just like you._ She didn’t know if the thought made her want to laugh or cry.

* * *

Gon was a bundle of nerves the entire drive to the airport. Killua had offered that he’d take a taxi from the airport to Gons home, but Mito insisted that they’d meet at the airport (“Just to be sure, you know?” And Gon didn’t know).

He tapped his fingers at increasing speeds against the interior of the red Subaru XV, and watched as the scenery outside transitioned slowly from deserted dirt roads to busy highways to the even busier parking area of the airport. 

Would Killua even recognize him? Would he be able to recognize Killua? He’d like to think so, but then again, people always said celebrities look different face-to-face than on TV. His heart was beating hard and fast against his chest, but a smile never left his face, strained in anticipation of the best kind.

Mito sat down in a designated waiting area, exhausted from a long drive. She considered asking Gon to sit down as well but disregarded the thought as he fidgeted and started to pace again. Excess energy needs to be let out somehow.

“The plane has already landed, right? Shouldn’t he be here already?” he blurted out, nervously bouncing on his heels.

“He’s probably still waiting for his luggage, things like this take ti-“

“Gon!” Mito got cut off by a voice that shouted his name in such a familiar way, so recognizable that it was almost startling.

He whipped around, and his eyes caught onto the silver hair in the distance immediately. There was Killua. He looked like he had just jumped out of any of the pictures that Gon had ever seen of him, messy hair, bright eyes, pale skin, and a confident yet laidback smile.

It took about 5 seconds before Gon had cleared the distance between them, and he wrapped his arms around the other boy in a big hug. Killua hesitated for a moment, before he returned the hug, and patted Gon on the shoulder.

“It’s really you!”

“Who else could it be?” Killua snorted.

“I don’t know! But it’s still so weird to, just, have you here now!”

They spent what felt like an eternity looking at each other, laughed and giggled and commented on each other’s features, more defined than any picture could do. Killuas eyes sparkled in the low airport light, and Gon tried to burn every detail of his face into his memory, his long eyelashes, the creases of his eyes, and his sharp smile. Everything looked so natural, so _right,_ and Gons heart stumbled over itself.

“So, would you like to introduce your friend to me, Gon?” As Mito spoke up, both boys pulled out of the hug with a jump.

Killua quickly held out his hand and stood straight, “I’m Killua, thank you so much for letting me stay over for a bit, miss. It’s nice to meet you.”

She shook his hand with a giggle. “You can just call me Mito or Auntie, alright? And it’s nice to meet you too, thank you for getting along so well with this little troublemaker.”

Gon felt heat rush to his cheeks but couldn’t bark a complain before Mito ruffled a hand through his hair. “How about we all grab something to eat, and then had home. You must be starving, Killua. Do you like burgers?”

The boys cheered in unison, and the group headed towards a fast-food chain.

And if Gon didn’t notice how easily he and Killua fell into step next to each other, too deeply invested in conversation about flights and food and seemingly the entire world, Mito surely did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am incredibly sorry it has been about 4 months since the last update.   
> I've been feeling pretty uninspired with this, and I've been incredibly busy with university.   
> I Hope you enjoy this chapter regardless. As usual, I'd appreciate feedback.   
> Take care, and thank you <3


End file.
